


Call Me by Your Name

by Artller



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Possessive Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Romance, Slow Burn, The Underground District - Freeform, Themes of sexual assult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-10-18 13:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17581643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artller/pseuds/Artller
Summary: She was the only constant in Levi’s life, and he’d be damned if he let her go so easily.





	1. Red doesn’t suit you

**Author's Note:**

> Levi thinks it’s perfect. Insignificant, but beautiful.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changed up this chapter a little bit. I wanted to trim it down and make it fit more with the story line, so yeah nothing drastic. Chapter 2 coming soon ;)

“I think I drank too much last night.”

Levi had been settled on a wooden chair, folding over the corner of his page, when a deep voice sounded from across the room. Kenny, his caretaker, lay sprawled out on the couch. He clutched at his head, muttering obscenities.

“You can say that again.”

The problem with Kenny is that he has no frame of reference for the way normal people live. It’s this oddity Levi finds valuable, but more often than not this lack of perspective can become infuriating, like when he's crippled with a hangover at nine o'clock in the morning on a Sunday, cursing at himself and trying to stuff himself into the deepest, darkest parts of the cushions. This is when Levi became less empathetic and more resentful.

"Hey, brat," Kenny says, hunched over now with his arms pressed on his knees. Levi pretends not to hear him and Kenny starts to snap his fingers. "Hello, kid, are you deaf? Don't make me come over there."

"What?" Levi says, eyeing him harshly.

"Doll-face is still in her room, isn't she?"

"Yes," Levi says, somewhat sourly. She's been asleep for over fourteen hours now, and Levi thinks she'll never wake up. She's only been with them for that same amount of time, hasn't said a word, but he's still bitter about her presence—thinks she's just another burden, and some part of him hopes she doesn't wake up.

Kenny grins. "You think you could go wake her up, Prince Charming style? I know you've just been dying to get a taste of her."

"You're insufferable," Levi says, "Stop pushing your repressed sexual urges onto me, you creep."

"I'm just messin' with ya, shortie." Kenny shifts, stretching his arms over his head and lays them atop the length of the couch.

"Just shut it, old man." Kenny hit a nerve, knows he did, but he listens this time and doesn't say more. The nickname suits him perfectly, the runt not even hitting the 5" mark. Kenny was a giant in comparison, a handful of inches past six foot. Apparently—unfairly—his Ackerman genes did him the justice they never would for Levi. Kenny assumes it's a concoction of environmental factors that did him in, the lack of sunlight, the malnutrition. He found the boy on death's doorstep, an emotionless sack of bones, and that must play a part in something, but Kenny's never met his father—doesn't know what scum slipped into his sister's sheets to result in the runt before him. He's resentful of the fact his sister sold herself the way she did, that the boy was nothing but a product from that weakness. Now he'll only get to see Kuchel through the mannerisms of a child.

"I hope she's not dead in there," he says, and for a moment he seems to be talking to himself, but then he turns to look at Levi. "She looked a lot like you did when I found her, skin and bones. Covered in blood, too. Disgusting. I'll have to pay you back for cleaning her off, did me a real solid there."

When Kenny kicked down the door the night before it was with a bang: A small, wilted girl at his side marching to her death. When she came inside she would march no more, falling to her hands and knees and curling into herself. Levi was speechless, and it was him who ultimately knew what to do. He lifted her gently from the floor, hand on her back to guide her to the bathroom, Kenny drifting to the beer bottles on the counter. None of them spoke. When they got there, the girl collapsed in the tub, her eyes red-rimmed but dry. Levi took his shoes off and sat in the tub with her, stripping the both of them of everything but their undergarments. She was out of it, her head lolling back and forth as she fell in and out of a fitful sleep, and Levi had to sit with her in between his legs so she wouldn't fall over and hurt herself. Her breathing was shallow against his scrawny chest, and he worked diligently to scrub her of the blood stains. The water was cold and she winced, but didn't fight it.

Levi threw his book to the table, instantly regretting his decision when he noticed the state of it. The surface was coated in grime. He’d scrub the table clean when Kenny left again for the night, but for now he’s stuck with it, doesn’t dare rest his elbows on it. The sound of the cover slapping the table resulted in a startled, feminine noise. Levi’s focus sharply fixated-he hadn’t heard her enter the room-and was promptly confused by her positioning.

“You’ll damage the binding!”

The girl, sitting cross legged on the floor, scowled disapprovingly. Levi and Kenny stared dumbfounded. They couldn’t imagine she’d been there the entire time.

”What’s wrong?” She asked.

Kenny was the first to snap out of it, releasing a sharp laugh—short, because the second it left his mouth he winced. His hangover hadn’t disappeared just yet.

"Glad to see you alive, kid. I was worried your corpse would stink up the house." Kenny is smirking, like he thinks he's hilarious. “Hey, what’s your name anyways?” 

"I don't have one.”

"You don't have one?" He repeats her words, unconvinced.

"No," she says. Kenny just sighs, glances at Levi who he assumes is better with this type of thing. He's sweltering under his coat, itching for the excitement of a day out. The last thing he needed was another mouth to feed, another ratty brat to look after, but again his conscience forbade the thought of leaving her to die. Yet, she was intriguing in the fact she was stronger than that—accepted defeat but only a defeat she chose. She was weak but stood anyways, wrapped her hand around the barrel his gun, and held it up between her eyes.

"Pull the trigger. Do it. Shoot me."

And he didn't. Maybe he was startled by the fact a ten year old was so blatantly suicidal, that this young girl was the only one to stare down the barrel of his gun and want him to pull the trigger. Maybe he felt sorry for her. Maybe she reminded him of himself, and maybe he was angry she was able to do something he never had the strength to do himself. So he let her live, hooked his hand under her arm and dragged her out of the house, shooting the man on the floor a few extra times on the way out for good measure.

“What.” It was more of a statement than a question. Levi met Kenny’s stare, waiting for a response. 

“Well, she can’t just not have a name, can she?” 

“You really expect me to come up with something?” 

The answer was simple. Blunt. “Yes.” 

Levi crossed his arms and leaned back further into his chair. He examined the girl closely, and she swore she felt holes burn through her skin. He was intimidating. 

”(Y/N).” 

She thought on it, but in the end it wasn’t for her to decide. 

“Okay, then it’s settled.” Kenny rose from his seat on the couch. “(Y/N) it is.” 

 


	2. Ackerman awakening

Some nights, Kenny would write the kids a note. _Meet_ _at_ _the_ _usual_ _spot_. _Eight_ _o'clock_. _Sharp_. And of course the note would always be in the most unusual of spots. On the bottom of a can of soup. Underneath a bed. Between the couch cushions. Like he knows Levi will find it, being the clean freak he is. Tonight, Levi uncovered a sheet of paper from the topmost cabinet, one of Kenny's. (Y/N) knew that this was a dig on Levi's height, and she didn't dare ask how he managed to reach it.

Levi _had_ filled out recently though, still the same height but with more meat on his bones, and more on the lean side then muscular. (Y/N) observed this on their way to meeting Kenny, a few paces behind the boy. She never stuck too close to him, and somewhere within Levi this annoyed him. He respected her enough not to pry, but it still irritated him, like it was a personal insult. At the same time, he was grateful she respected his privacy in turn, because he didn't think he could do with her trailing him around like a lovesick puppy. No, he could live with this. Her stagnant being was a reassurance in itself.

Through the entirety of him knowing her, (Y/N) had stayed unchanged, always had been doll-like in appearance and aged like one, too. However, her personality was in no way akin to her appearance. She was unconcerned with the social norm, and her jokes always bordered on vulgarity. It was refreshing. It was hilarious as well, especially when a mistress a table over almost faints when she hears sweet, little (Y/N) shamelessly blurt out a sex joke.

Levi glanced back, his eyes sharp, and reassured she's still there he continues to walk. This is shattered not moments later, when he hears a voice a little ways off.

"Where are you goin', little lady?" 

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks. Levi does, too.

"No where in particular," she says, but that was a lie. The bar was twenty feet away, and she was stiff, prepared to run if she had to.

"Hey, baldy!" The older man ignores Levi, zeroed in on her. His breath reeks of alcohol, and it flattened against her cheek unpleasantly, hot and unwelcome.

"Has anyone told you that you've got beautiful eyes?" He asks. He looms over her, his face uncomfortably close to her own, and she was afraid he might just duck down a few extra inches and close the gap between them. He reaches to pet right below her bosom, his hand running the length of her down to her hip. She flinches away but he grips tighter, and Levi felt something in him break. He felt violent. He felt a power surge through him, so intense he shook with a hot rage, and he knew exactly what to do with it.

"Get the fuck away from her!"

She had never seen Levi so angry. His eyes were wide, his lips in a snarl, and with a strength so fierce he clawed at back of the man's shirt, and with a handful of it threw him to the ground. The man recovered quickly, landed a hit right to Levi's nose. A crowd began to gather, and the man turned his attentions to (Y/N) again, grabbed her by the fabric of her dress and held tight, but Levi wasn't down just yet, and with a long stake knife severed his wrist in half. He let go immediately, like he touched a flame, and Levi wouldn't let him get far. He beat him until he was on the ground, picked him up by the collar and kicked him clean across the face, and when he flailed on the ground Levi stomped down on his throat, twisted his foot. He held him by the collar of his dress shirt again, brought the knife up to his bloodied cheek. 

"If you ever touch her again you're **_dead_** , you got that?! Do you understand, you idiot?!"

The man nodded and Levi threw him to the ground, his head bouncing off the dirt with a crack. Levi was still standing over the body, and a figure in the crowd drew his attention. It was Kenny, but he was turned away, Levi watching him until he was but a speck in the distance, and it'll be the last time.

"Levi?" It's faint, a whisper in the crowd, but he still heard it. 

"(Y/N)!" Levi steps over the body, running to her. His knife rests loosely in his hand, the other one holding her cheek in his palm so delicately, like she might just break. She holds his hand there and searches his face. His nose is bloodied, badly, and he's bruised on his cheek below his right eye.

"Levi, you're hurt," she says. 

"It doesn't matter. Come on, we're going home." He doesn't let her go anywhere without him anymore. His reservations have changed—wherever she goes, he's there with her. The one was never seen without the other; they were a packaged deal. She liked it like that, like she relied on him as much as he did her, liked his company most of all. She never knew why she didn't realize it before. 

"Stay still." She held his chin between her thumb and her index finger, wetting the area under his nose. The damage wasn't major, just a few cuts and bruises. She was busy patching up his nose, cleaning the blood that coated his upper lip. He flinched but didn't pull away, studied her intensely while she worked.

"Thank you, Levi. You're always saving my ass, I'm so stupid," she says. He stays silent on the floor, not sure what to say. When she's finished she'll slide the first aid kit under the sink, her feet soft and light against the floor. She'll rest her hand on her door frame, frozen, contemplating something rather fiercely before turning and throwing her arms around Levi—uncertainty be damned. She'll hold him until he loses his resolve, relaxing against her. She'll feel rather grand, too, because when they’re together she’ll begin to lose sight of where she starts and he ends. Like they’re one. As if she can’t distinguish the lines between them anymore. And she’ll be whole.


	3. Tea cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is lowkey short and I wasn’t gonna add it in at first but shit happens. Anyways enjoy :)) (feedback appreciated!)

(Y/N) fell in love with Levi because of a tea set. It was a couple of months after Kenny had left them. (Y/N) was the only one who hadn't skipped out on Levi yet, and therefore the only trustworthy person in his life, as far as Levi was concerned. She was chaotic, but not in the way Kenny was. It was in a charming, clumsy way, when she preferred to be refined—the way she was supposed to be. That was what Levi found endearing, possibly, (Y/N)'s helpless novelty. Holding his new cup from his tea set, he sipped the tea she brewed for him, his finger hooked around the handle. He sat at the dining room table, (Y/N) holding her own cup at the bottom to warm her hands. She stood far away, though, edging towards him with a sort of uncertainty Levi immediately sought to wave away.

"Come sit over here, idiot. I don’t bite.”

(Y/N) did what he asked, which caused a weird sensation to rumble in his stomach, like a hunger for something he couldn't describe. They stared at each other from across the table, (Y/N) looking at him wondrously, as if she discovered something new and profound. Curious. Levi, however, always had a steely look to him, a glare that had (Y/N) pondering if he even liked her.

Levi went to take another sip but the cup never met his lips, and the weight on his hand suddenly felt so small, and he heard it on the ground a second later. The silence was stunned, his eyes wide, and that was the second time (Y/N) had ever seen him like that. His finger was still around the handle, trembling. She collected the pieces of glass like the shattered parts of his heart, and they just might have been, because the only thing Levi had ever wanted was in front of him broken on the floor, and it was just too much to handle. She promised to buy him another, but the damage was done. 

“Levi-...I’m sorry,” she said. They sat on the floor now, legs crossed with their knees pressing together. She moved him away from the crime scene, onto the ground where he couldn't hurt himself. 

"Why?” The question made her open her mouth, then close it again. No answer. Then, the words just didn’t stop. Empty reassurance. She was overcome with anxiety in trying to soothe his, so he put his hand on her knee. “Stop," he said, and she did, and the hunger feeling happened again when it worked. (Y/N) stopped talking. She stared at Levi, small but concerned—the look making Levi sit up taller. He breathed in, shaking a little as he did so, and closed his eyes.

Eventually relaxation seemed to happen against his will, and in the cloudy mess of his thoughts he found he wanted to be closer to (Y/N), that he wanted to sink into her and have her hold him like she would at night, when she thought he was asleep and she'd pet his hair and kiss his forehead and tell him he was brave. When Levi opened his eyes, (Y/N) was looking at him. She looked hypnotized, like she was listening to something extraordinary Levi wasn't worthy enough to hear.

"Do you feel better now?" (Y/N) asked.

"Yeah," Levi said, and smiled in a way (Y/N) was too young then to appreciate, but would soon realize the power his sudden smirk could have on her. "But you could make me feel even better."


	4. Prince Charming

It's getting dark by the time he's vaulting himself over the wall and into the back alley. He lands hard in the mud, some of it splashing onto his dress shirt. The distant shouting propels him forward, but he's still cursing under his breath, bitter as he takes shelter in the shadow of an overfilled dumpster. He waits until the noise dies down, simmers to nothing, and makes the trek home. He strips off his vest and his muddied shirt and drapes it over the back of the chair, steps out of his boots and meets Farlan's eye from the couch. 

"You're late," Farlan says. "Why didn't you take your ODM gear?"

Levi shuffles to the recliner. "It would have been too noisy. The house is clean. Where is (Y/N) and Isabel?"

"(Y/N) spent the day cleaning. They're doing something in the other room, I think." Farlan gets a sense of urgency, feels Levi is up to something. "What's in the box?"

Levi knows what he's talking about, doesn't have to look behind him to know what caught his attention. "It's for (Y/N)."

"Did I hear my name?" She asks, rounding the corner.

"Yup, and I was just heading off to bed," Farlan says. He stands, promptly leaves the room. (Y/N) watches him go, left with a feeling she'd said something wrong. The room was still and quiet; Levi on the chair. (Y/N) walked close to the couch to make sure Levi was really there, that she wasn't just seeing things. She saw the rise and fall of his chest, unclothed, knew he was there but bothered by the fact that he was, comfortable and stoic like a statue he knew she'd admire. She sat without his instruction, but she didn't need it in the first place.

"(Y/N)?" Levi asked, and her heart cracked open: he didn't sound cold, just calm. "Do you remember, when we were younger, and you made me dance with you in the living room of our old house?" 

"Yes," she says, and she does, but she doesn't know why he's asking.

"And you told me you loved to slow dance most of all, and that when we were older, when we grew up, we'd go to a big ball and waltz like we were royalty?"

He's standing now, a box in his hand, and it's too heavy to hand it to her so he sets it on the coffee table. Her stomach has that soda pop feeling again, and her head feels fizzy, because she loves it when he remembers something she thinks is lost with her, when she fears she sees beauty while he sees plainness.

"Of course," (Y/N) says. She searches for him, grabbing the air until he puts his hand there, lets her drag him down next to her. He's cold, and she tells him so, rubs his arm to create friction. He hums, amused, pulls his arm away from her hand and replaces it with a knife, short but with a sharp blade, and she slices the tape over the box.

"Levi, you..." she opens it, fingers gliding over the corners. It was a record player, wooden and shaped into a square, with black dials on the front. Levi shimmied a record onto the peg, a large black circle, and held the arm out over the disc.

"It came with a song, too." 

"Levi, how did you get this?"

"It was payment for a job. I told him to keep the money in return for the record player, and he gave it to me, said I was crazy." He placed the arm down, and it spun slowly with static then levelled out, and (Y/N) could hear piano cords spill out into the room. He stood, held out his hand for her.

"Care for a dance?"

She nodded, because she couldn't hope to ruin this moment with her clumsy mouth and god he was so handsome, so perfect and she wanted to tell him everything—scream it, but she didn't. He dragged her to the center of the room, and words low and soft began to trickle from the box. His hand fit snug against her upper back, hers over his shoulder, and their hands clasped on the other side held out like an arrow pointing to the part of the room they'd glide over and laugh like they had a secret. 

' _Unforgettable_. _That's_ _what_ _you_ _are.'_

She sung the words, so soft it was hardly a whisper, but he heard it and leaned closer, and to her surprise he sung back.

_'Like_ _a_ _song_ _of_ _love_ _that_ _clings_ _to_ _me.'_

His voice was smooth, like contraband chocolate she smuggled into the house years ago when it was hot and muggy and it melted on her tongue. She wanted to kiss him, to have him taste it on her lips—but they hadn't done that yet and she didn't have the nerve. It was slow, like hugging or a touch of the shoulder, and she rubbed her thumb over his and memorised each dip and curve like it'd be the last time. 

_’How the thought of you does things to me’_

And he thought of her a lot, and to his horror, to his delight, everything reminded him of her. Jesus, even the dirt made him swoon, thinking that if she were there, she'd be drawing stick figures in the brown filth and beam like she'd created a masterpiece. Opposed to what everyone thinks, Levi is not a man of few words, and with her so close he wants to tell her anything, everything. That she was beautiful, extraordinary, that damn it all she was his dream. But he didn't.

_'That's why darling, it’s incredible... that someone so unforgettable... thinks that I am unforgettable too.’_

Farlan held his hand to Isabel's mouth, smiling fondly from the hallway. Levi slid his hand from (Y/N)'s back, still holding her hand as he twirled her around. She laughed loud, dizzy, her skirt spinning and tickling his calfs.

"They're so stupid," Farlan says. He's whispering low, leaning to reach Isabel's ear. She peels his fingers from her mouth.

"Don't be mean!"

"I'm just saying. They've been together for so long, how do they not see it?" Farlan looks away, presses his back to the wall. "What's that saying again? Love is blind?"

"As a bat." Isabel is young, but not naive enough to perceive their relationship as nothing more than friendly. "Do you think they ever will?"

He allows her to stare at him in silence for several seconds, the music faint from the other room. "What do you mean?"

"Do you think they'll ever admit it? That they love each other!"

"Shh!" Farlan holds his finger to his lips, eyes wide, and his shoulders sag in relief when he can still hear their footsteps fluttering across the floorboards. "Quiet! And to answer your question, maybe. Someday, we can hope...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used is called ‘Unforgettable’ by Nat King Cole


End file.
